


With This Ring

by marguerite_26



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Forced Marriage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-18
Updated: 2010-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-30 20:49:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marguerite_26/pseuds/marguerite_26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being enchanted, Uther forces Arthur and Merlin to marry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With This Ring

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [](http://dysonrules.livejournal.com/profile)[**dysonrules**](http://dysonrules.livejournal.com/) , [](http://melusinahp.livejournal.com/profile)[**melusinahp**](http://melusinahp.livejournal.com/) , [](http://winnett.livejournal.com/profile)[**winnett**](http://winnett.livejournal.com/) and [](http://themostepotente.livejournal.com/profile)[**themostepotente**](http://themostepotente.livejournal.com/) for your excellent advice and many, many typo fixes.

Yet another nobleman entered the court, forehead sweaty and voice pompous, parading his daughter in front of Uther like a merchant waving his wares. Merlin cringed at the sight and watched Uther greet the newcomers. Uther’s smile never reached his eyes, hadn’t in the months since this began. The _Nobility Welcoming_ , they called it but the purpose behind the visits was never in question.

Arthur shook the nobleman’s hand, nodding, jaw clenched at the pleasantries, the endless compliments and the inevitable inquiry if he might be permitted to introduce his beautiful young daughter.

“Such beauty, my Lord,” the nobleman whispered, pushing forward a scared girl of no more than thirteen. He smiled to reveal a gaping hole in place of his two front teeth and held up a key. “And untouched, to be sure.”

Arthur paled, taking a step back. The girl’s lip quivered, but to her credit the tears in her eyes did not spill. Arthur cleared his throat and tried to smile at her. “It’s an honour,” he said, but it sounded very clearly like an apology, for her father or his lack of interest, Merlin wasn’t sure.

The girl turned away with an unskilled curtsy. As they walked to the back of the room, her father’s harsh whispers carried over the crowd.

Arthur’s gaze snapped to Merlin and he gritted out, “Dear God, will this never end?”

Merlin felt a tug of pity. It really was ridiculous and humiliating for all involved. For his part, Merlin was instructed to wear the horrendous feathered hat – for no other reason than to give Arthur the only true smile he’d manage all day. It was a _small_ tug of pity. “One more left today, Sire. Oh and they brought a gift. The king will be pleased. Let’s hope it’s not quite as untoward as Lord Buxley’s.”

Arthur’s lips quirked and his eyes softened in a way that made standing for hours on end, watching the pomp and circumstance, worth it all. “Lord Buxley,” Arthur replied, giving Merlin a half-smile full of mischief, “deserves our respect for being so incredibly... creative.”

Merlin’s nostrils flared as he tried to hold back a smile. “Shall I serve your wine in that goblet tonight, then? The one moulded from the breast of his eldest daughter?”

Arthur’s eyes widened in mock horror. “Certainly not. I’d be drunk before I reached the bottom.” At Merlin’s grin, he raised an eyebrow suggestively.

Merlin snorted and covered his mouth quickly when Uther glared their way. Uther cleared his throat and Arthur jumped to his side to see the next family arrive. Merlin wished he could reach out, just a small gesture, and tap Arthur’s shoulder in a show of camaraderie, but it was not his station and this certainly was not the place. Merlin ignored the regret weighing on his chest. Soon Arthur would be married off to the richest, the prettiest or the most politically advantageous noble woman Uther could find. It would be one more wall between them that Merlin would learn to accept.

Another father and daughter stepped forward, wealthier than the last, if the shimmer of the fabric of their travel robes was anything to go by. Merlin eyed them carefully, wondering as he always did, if they would be the ones to win the prize of this contest of folly.

The man held out a small wooden chest, trimmed in gold to Uther “Sire,” the man bowed deeply. “I am Lord Hawkstone, of Ingleslis on the southernmost tip of Camelot. We bring you this small token to thank you for your welcome.”

Uther nodded, his stern face cracking slightly to host a small smile. “Welcome, then Lord Hawkstone. Your gift is appreciated.”

Uther reached out and the instant his gloved hands clasped the chest, Merlin’s eyes snapped to Uther. A wave of power poured from the box. A whisper, almost as if carried by the wind, swirled about Uther. Merlin looked around for the reaction of the court, but the magic was going unnoticed. Arthur simply looked on with a stiff smile as he shook Lord Hawkstone’s hand. Even Uther seemed oblivious. His hand went to the heavy golden clasp and, in the second Merlin took in deciding how to stop him from opening it, Uther’s face turned cold.

“What is this you have given me?”

Lord Hawkstone turned, and with an air of falseness said, “Sire? I don’t know what you mean.”

“It will not open. It’s an insult to gift someone a locked chest and not provide the key,” Uther snapped. “Take this away.” One of the guards quickly grabbed it and placed it on a small table behind where Merlin stood.

“My Lord, there is a small hidden button to press – my apologies for not mentioning it immediately. Dehlia, will you show the king his treasure?”

Merlin’s eyes flickered between father and daughter, a feeling of dread growing in his belly at Lady Dehlia’s pleased smile. As Dehlia stepped forward to retrieve the chest, his instincts took over.

“I’ll fetch it for you, my Lady.” And Merlin, with longer legs and already two steps closer, arrived at the chest first. The box sang to him, a gentle sweet tune one might never tire of hearing. It called to him. Even as Lady Dehlia raised her voice, commanding him not to touch it, he couldn’t stop himself.

The chest opened the instant his skin made contact. Distantly, he heard a gasp behind him. He frowned at the treasure; the chest was empty but for two gold rings and a slip of parchment. Merlin stared, uncomprehending. The music had ended, and he began to question if he’d heard anything at all.

He looked up to see Lady Dehlia’s pale face turn ashen. Over her shoulder, Merlin could see Uther approach with a broad smile taking over his face.

“Oh, good man! You got it open.” Uther clapped him on the shoulder and Merlin stumbled forward. “And what’s this, then?”

Uther looked into the chest and his face lit with joy. Merlin considered for a moment how much wine Uther had drunk through the course of the afternoon. Uther took the chest from Merlin’s hands and held it up to the court. The crowd fell silent.

“Tonight we shall celebrate,” Uther exclaimed. “For tomorrow there will be a wedding!”

“What?” Arthur stormed forward, face flushed with anger and confusion.

“Tomorrow you shall marry,” Uther repeated. He tilted his head and regarded Arthur as though it had been planned for months already and he couldn’t understand the inquiry.

Arthur glared first at his father and then at Lady Dehlia. “Is this sorcery? We had never heard of the house of Hawkstone before an hour ago. And now I’m to marry into it?”

Uther laughed, warm and thick and so unfamiliar it chilled Merlin to the bone. “Not Lady Dehlia.” He waved his hand in her direction as if to dismiss the thought. Her eyes narrowed.

“What?” Arthur drew closer to Uther, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Father, you are not making any sense.”

Uther tapped Arthur’s shoulder and with an indulgent grin said, “Arthur, I’m talking of Merlin, of course.”

“Merlin!” Arthur gaped.

“What? What?” Merlin cried. A nervous twist formed in his gut as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. The room around him dissolved into chaos.

“Tomorrow, at noon, you will marry Merlin.” Uther reached into the chest and held up the two rings, then he raised his voice to address the court. With an eerily broad grin, he announced, “You have a wedding to prepare for. Let it be known throughout Camelot, at noon tomorrow Prince Arthur will marry. You are dismissed.”

Uther replaced the rings in the chest, tucked it under his arm and slipped through the door into his private rooms. Arthur followed him, leaving the room to its explosive chatter.

Gaius grabbed Merlin’s elbow and dragged him through the castle, only stopping when they reached his room.

“Merlin.”

“Gaius, I swear to you, it wasn’t me.”

“Merlin, I—“

“It wasn’t me! I wouldn’t—“

“Merlin, let me—“

“I mean, I joked about finding Arthur a way out of this whole _Nobility Welcoming_ business.” Merlin clutched at his hair, tugging until the short locks stood on end. “But I wouldn’t.”

“Merlin!”

Merlin’s lips clamped shut.

“I know it wasn’t you.” Gaius placed a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and held eye contact in the imploring way he did when he wanted Merlin to understand. “It was the Hawkstones. It was written all over their faces the moment you touched the chest instead of Lady Dehlia.”

Merlin collapsed on the bench of Gaius’s worktable. “I figured she was to touch it and—“

“Uther would declare Arthur was to marry her not you. Yes. I believe that was the intent.”

Merlin shot to his feet. “Uther’s enchanted!”

Gaius shot him a withering look. “It hadn’t escaped my notice.”

“Right. What with the—“ Merlin waved his hands about his face and decided on, “smiling.”

“Yes, that.” Gaius turned to his bookshelf and pulled out a thick tome, handing it to Merlin. “We have until tomorrow noon to break this.”

Before Merlin could crack the spine, the door burst open producing a parade of young girls led by a stern-faced man. He stood before Merlin, his jacket and breeches finely embroidered and hugging his slight frame. He looked Merlin up and down like Arthur might a new mare. “I am Hector, the assistant to the royal tailor. I’ve been assigned to make you _presentable_.” He clapped his hands and the women scattered about the room opening bags and pulling out fabrics of every colour.

Merlin and Gaius exchanged looks of terror.

****

ooOOoo

When the summons arrived from the king, Merlin was covered in pins. Strips of fabric were draped over his shoulder and one woman was threatening to ‘do something’ about his hair. The summons, Merlin hoped, would be quickly followed by a warrant for his arrest as surely the pyre was a better fate than several more hours with Hector.

Ten paces from the door to the king’s private audience chamber, he heard the shouting. Merlin stepped in, greeted by Arthur’s drawn face and Uther’s benign grin, and almost wished himself back to his fate with the tailor.

“Ah, Merlin!” Uther approached and led him into the room as if he were an old friend. “It seems we have a bit of a misunderstanding.”

“Father, I will not let you do this.” Arthur’s voice was tired, worn like he’d said the words a dozen times in as many minutes. “This entire farce of the _Nobility Welcoming_ tradition was ludicrous enough –“

“Arthur, you’ve always been stubborn.” Uther guffawed and turned to Merlin. “What shall we do with him?”

Merlin blinked. He hadn’t been aware Uther had so many teeth. They seemed unusually white and straight and large for Uther’s face.

“Merlin, you have to tell him you refuse. He won’t listen to me. He will not see reason.”

Merlin wanted to be insulted by Arthur’s callous dismissal of a marriage to him, but he couldn’t manage it. Two men did not marry. Bored boys stumbled into the woods and explored each other’s bodies on lazy summer days. Men fell into bed together after a night of drinking when there were no women about. And they exchanged favours inside their tents to relieve the stress after a battle. It was understood, accepted and never spoken of. But marriage, public declarations of devotion, that was reserved for a man and a woman. Uther’s suggestion was ridiculous, completely against everything Merlin had been brought up to understand marriage to be. This simply could not happen.

“Yes, of course.” Merlin turned directly towards Uther, whose smile hadn’t faltered. “I refuse.”

“You refuse,” Uther repeated with a blank stare.

Arthur shouldered past Merlin and stood before the king. “We both refuse, Father.”

“I see.” Uther looked from one to the other and Merlin tried not to fidget. As the seconds of silence ticked on, the brightness to Uther’s eyes faded, his lips turned down at the edges and his entire expression hardened. He turned to the guards. “Have Arthur’s betrothed flogged until they both see reason.”

“What? Father, no!”

Uther waved his hand and the guards dropped Merlin. “Then do not condescend to stand before me and act out some ridiculous rebellion. You _will_ marry.”

Arthur bowed his head, the muscles in his jaw clenching. “Of course, Father.”

Uther’s smile returned as if it had never left; sweat prickled the back of Merlin’s neck.

****

ooOOoo

Merlin slept that night only because Gaius shoved a phial in his hand and hustled him into his quarters after it became apparent they wouldn’t find the spell to free Uther before sundown. Gaius had checked on the Hawkstones and found their chambers empty. Not a crumb of evidence could be gleaned from the room, although the empty state was proof enough.

Merlin’s night had been haunted by dreams of tangled sheets, sweat slicked bodies and strong arms holding him close. He wanted nothing more than to sink back into the dream but Gaius’s relentless knocking roused him in the end. The pale morning light seared Merlin’s eyes as he stumbled out of his room. “I feel like a javelin’s been lodged behind my eyeballs.” He collapsed into the seat across the table from Gaius.

“After-effects of the sleeping draught, I’m afraid.” Gaius placed porridge, an apple and a thick brown potion in front of him. “Take the potion first or you’re liable to lose your breakfast.”

Merlin scrunched his nose at the stench wafting up from the bottle. “The headache’s not that bad.”

“And it’ll get worse in five minutes. The assistant to the royal tailor is due to arrive any moment to dress you.” Gaius’s lip quirked. “I don’t think you want to handle today without it.”

“Hector. Lord, so it wasn’t all a nightmare?” The images of his dreams flooded back to him and he shook them off with a wave of guilt.

“I’m afraid not. And noon is creeping closer every minute.” Gaius rose and cleared his own barely touched breakfast. He immediately opened the book of marriage histories they’d placed their hopes on the night before.

“Any luck?”

Gaius sighed. “Drink up.”

“I can’t marry Arthur.” Merlin raised the phial as if in toast to his declaration, and drank it. It was just shy of worse than the troll transformation potion. Merlin kept his mouth closed tight and swallowed past his nausea.

“You can and you will.” Gaius’s small smile softened his words.

Merlin’s stomach churned and he shook his head. He must have looked green because Gaius kicked a bucket over to him. The moment passed and Merlin reached for an apple.

“It will be a farce. And no more a farce than any other marriage Arthur was in for.” Gaius spoke without looking up from the book. He turned a page, shaking his head at the text. “But hopefully it will only be for a few days. We’ll remove the enchantment from Uther.”

“And he’ll just dissolve the marriage?”

Gaius ran his finger along the text as he read. “To move a mountain you must start with the first rock, Merlin.”

Merlin picked up the spoon for the porridge and then thought better of it. “Dear God, I’m getting married to Arthur.” _Arthur was being forced to marry him_ , he corrected. His stomach cramped around the half eaten apple he’d managed to consume.

Gaius nodded. “In a little over two hours.”

Merlin buried his head in his hands and heard the bucket nudged closer. The nausea passed just in time for the tailor to stomp through the door, followed every few minutes by yet more _people_ who poked and prodded and stripped and bathed and dressed Merlin until it was a long painful blur of hands upon him.

Merlin scowled at Gaius. There had to have been something in the potion he’d taken that morning, a calming draught of sorts, because Merlin endured all the attention with little complaint and no bursts of magic in frustration. He was entirely compliant through the humiliating process. They didn’t have a single moment alone for Merlin to voice his suspicions, but Gaius’s wink told him enough.

Before he knew it, two guards appeared at the door to escort him to the throne room. Merlin had to ask, even if he knew the answer, “Any chance you found that rock, Gaius?”

Gaius simply shook his head and whispered, “Good luck, my boy.”

****

ooOOoo

Their footsteps echoed as Merlin was led through the empty halls. It had been Arthur’s one victory the night before. Eyes flaring with anger, he’d requested a private ceremony, only courtiers and knights present. Merlin would never forget Arthur’s bowed head and the strained voice as he practically begged to be saved from the humiliation of a full courtyard ceremony. To stand before all his people and allow himself to be so obviously manipulated would have been more than Arthur could take.

A wave of whispers travelled through the room as Merlin stood in the open doorway. The heavy woven breeches and dark blue jacket felt stiff, foreign against his skin. The hall was filled with Lords and Ladies in their finest. Knights lined the aisles, their faces staring blankly ahead, expressions somewhere between differential obedience and mortification. The buzz of the hurried words, sotto-voice, spun around the room like a swarm of bees caught in a clay wine jug.

When Merlin took an involuntary step back, a halberd pressed between his shoulder blades. At the moment, it was the only thing keeping him upright. Then a strong hand fell to his shoulder and shoved him forwards. He stumbled into the room. A few titters broke out through the buzz and Merlin was sure if he’d ever pictured the worst wedding day possible, he would still never have managed to come up with this.

Arthur turned. Merlin hadn’t noticed him before. He stood at the back of the room just inside the door and to Merlin’s left. Now they were face to face, an arms breadth apart. Merlin wiped the cold sweat that dampened his brow.

Arthur looked radiant. His chainmail was polished and his crown shone so that it caught the sunlight that streamed through the windows. The formal robes he wore were new, the deep red of something just dyed and the embroidered dragon was without a single pull. Merlin wondered if any servant in the castle had slept the night before.

Arthur raised his eyes to Merlin and nodded. “You look... nice.”

It occurred to Merlin then that he’d yet to speak to Arthur alone, though the marriage had been discussed by all and sundry through the castle – Merlin tried not to think too hard on _that_ – he and Arthur had not exchanged a single word to each other on the matter. Merlin tried for a grin to convey his regret of that fact and his understanding and support of something over which neither of them had control. It was too much of a task for a curl of lip because, when Arthur saw it, his eyes squeezed shut and he turned away.

“Sire,” the guard beside Arthur whispered and stretched his arm out towards the centre aisle.

A lute began to play as Merlin took a deep breath and moved to his place at Arthur’s side. The whispers fell silent.

They walked down the aisle, shoulder to shoulder, step for step and for an instant it felt _right_. Maybe they could get through this. His shoulder grazed Arthur’s and Merlin attempted another smile. Arthur’s expression froze for a heartbeat then softened, just enough to make Merlin’s grin sincere.

“Idiot,” Arthur breathed and Merlin was sure, had they been anywhere else, he’d have been cuffed on the back of the head.

As they reached the end of the aisle and the lute trailed off, Uther stood before them. Merlin’s eyes widened at the realisation that it would be _Uther_ who would perform the ceremony, not Geoffrey of Monmouth. He shot a glance to Arthur whose red cheeks said that, as a man of tradition and honour, the mockery of being married like this – under obvious duress, in front of his knights and his people, as if acting out a play – was the ultimate humiliation.

“Arthur Pendragon, Crown Prince of Camelot, your hand shall be joined, your heart bonded from this day forward. What say you?” Uther’s eyes were wide and bright, crinkled at the edges from his absurd smile. Merlin had to blink away the disbelief that this was actually happening.

“It is my will,” Arthur ground out through clenched teeth.

“Merlin of Ealdor, son of Hunith, your hand shall be joined, your heart bonded from this day forward. What say you?”

“It is my will,” Merlin said, finding very little irony in the words. Long ago, he’d committed himself to being at Arthur’s side until the day he died.

“Present your left hands.” Arthur and Merlin’s hands rose as if Uther were a puppet master pulling their strings. A servant stepped forward, the Hawkstones’ chest open in his hands. As Uther removed a thick, engraved ring from the chest, Merlin’s mind flashed to an image of himself in the crowd now, watching, helpless, while Arthur wed Lady Dehlia. It became easier to be less resentful of his position.

Uther slid the ring onto Arthur’s third finger and moved to Merlin. For an instant, Merlin thought it wouldn’t fit, but as Merlin’s ring met the resistance of the first knuckle it stretched and moulded itself around Merlin’s finger until it settled in its proper place.

Uther pulled a parchment from the chest. "Arthur, Merlin, clasp your ring hands together as a sign of your devotion."

He caught Arthur's eye and regretted it the moment their gazes locked. There was an intensity to Arthur's deep and fathlomless blue eyes as he stared back at Merlin. Memories of sitting by the sea, two cups on the table between them came to mind. ‘I’m glad you’re here, Merlin,’ Arthur had said. They entwined fingers and Merlin's cheeks heated. Arthur's lips parted as if he were about to speak but Uther interrupted.

Uther held up the parchment and began to speak. His voice was deep and lyrical as he read the strange words, his tongue twisting about the language as if it were his own and the hair at Merlin’s nape stood on end.

Distantly, Merlin heard the court erupt in gasps; the words were clearly an enchantment, spoken by _the king_ no less, but Merlin's focus was drawn to his left hand. The ring warmed about his finger, the heat of it bordering on pain. He tried to pull his hand away from Arthur – instinctively wanting the ring off, but his fingers would not obey. They held Arthur's hand in a tight grip. Arthur's eyes widened in panic as they both tugged at their hands. Their skin appeared fused together. The heat spread quick as lightning; it flared up Merlin’s arm and seemed to wrap about his heart and squeeze, stealing his breath away.

Then it was gone.

Uther had finished speaking and the audience fell into a stunned silence. Merlin and Arthur stood – flushed and panting from the spell – their sweaty hands held in a white-knuckled grip. They looked around and a thousand eyes seemed to bore into them as they caught their breath. From the back of the room, Gaius met his eyes and gave Merlin a nervous smile.

"Kiss, gentlemen, and seal the contract."

Arthur tugged his hand free and Merlin realised the melding of their hands had only lasted through the invocation of the spell. He wiped his damp palms on his fine woven breeches and, self-conscious, he refused to meet Arthur’s gaze.

"Merlin," Arthur said, barely more than a puff of air. Merlin looked up through his eyelashes. Arthur’s hair clung to his crown at the fringe and curled in damp tufts at his temple. His hand was hot on Merlin's shoulder as he closed the distance between them. "We need to." Arthur's eyes searched Merlin's face for permission. "This once."

Merlin nodded, unable to read the meaning behind Arthur’s words. "Of course." He closed his eyes because that seemed easier, letting Arthur take the lead in this. Soft lips grazed his own, and when had his pulse begun to race? He swayed into the contact; too hot in his heavy jacket, too little air in the crowded room. Arthur's hand curled around his neck and their lips touched again. A tiny whimper escaped Merlin, parting his lips and wetting the kiss. The rings flared in heat again and he and Arthur jumped apart in surprise.

As the world around them came into focus again, Merlin heard the sound of slow, hesitant applause.

****

ooOOoo

They endured the feast as best they could. The queue of well-wishers was never ending: ladies who blushed and curtsied, knights who would not meet their eyes, mumbling their honours, and the odd brave soul who would stare at them baldly as if they were a highly entertaining curiosity.

Arthur made their excuses as early as he could justify to the king. Uther nodded gratuitously and renewed his heartfelt congratulations to both. Despite Arthur's protest, Uther sent his personal guard to mind their door lest they be interrupted.

They finally stepped into Arthur’s chambers after what seemed like an eternity of goodbyes, a few knowing glances and the odd bawdy remark from now-tipsy knights. Arthur scowled at the guards stationed outside his room and slammed the door in their faces.

Arthur growled a curse and kicked a chair. It crashed against the far wall and tumbled over.

Merlin shrugged. "It could have been worse, you know." He immediately started to work through the complicated knot of the cape string at Arthur's neck as though his station hadn't changed. It was comforting, the familiar feel of Arthur’s clothing beneath his agile fingers. The garment was certainly new, stitched enough to last the day but not much beyond. One good tug and…

Merlin's fingers halted, suddenly remembering it was not his place to undress Arthur.

"Worse?" Arthur pulled away to place his crown on the cabinet. His hair stuck up on end, and Merlin itched to run his fingers through and tame it back to into place. "Yes, worse. I suppose I could be married to Lady Dehlia. There was something about her. Something about this whole business that must be the fault of that family."

"She's a sorcerer," Merlin blurted, his hands back at the knotted string. Arthur must be burning under those layers. Merlin certainly was. "Or her father. Maybe both." The string gave way and Merlin draped the cape over Arthur’s changing screen.

"What?"

Merlin looked back at Arthur and rolled his eyes. "Arthur, you must know the king—"

"Well, yes. Obviously," Arthur said while Merlin pulled off his hauberk. He rolled his shoulders with the sudden loss of the weight of his armour. "But why?"

Merlin held up his ringed finger. “It was triggered to have Uther match you with whoever opened the chest. I beat her to it and …" He gestured to his wedding clothes.

Arthur shook his head, staring at the floor before looking back at Merlin. "But that is all conjecture. You don't know for certain it was the chest itself."

“It’s not conjecture,” Merlin snapped, frustrated with the years of lies, years of Arthur doubting his word when he understood better than he’d ever received credit for.

Arthur snorted at him, riling Merlin further.

"I—" Oh, God, he was going to do this. He had to. It was time. Long past time. "I sensed it."

"Sensed it as in…" Arthur stood there, finery half off, hair still a mess. And Merlin hated the deep wrinkle of his brow.

"Sensed the magic." He held Arthur's gaze as long as he could, then head bowed, he whispered, "It … it sang to me."

"Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin."

"Arthur." Merlin stepped up behind him, voice low and words cautious. Despite all the times he’d pictured this and the various scenarios that his imagination had produced over the last few years, the words were scrambled, slow to find the way between his brain and his mouth. Merlin reached out with his mind and lifted the cape from the changing screen. He could feel Arthur’s stare burning him as he waved open the wardrobe and hung the cape neatly inside.

Arthur stared at him, eyes wide, hurt.

"Arthur,” he began again. “I have magic. I – I can sense magic sometimes and that chest was certainly magical. And Uther's enchanted and now we've been married and – oh, God – I still have no clue how to fix this." Merlin bit his lips to cut off his own babbling.

Arthur blinked and turned heel. He paced the room twice before kneeling, grabbing a poker and jabbing at the fire as though it were easier to look at than Merlin.

“Arthur,” Merlin pleaded, “Say something.” Arthur hadn’t turned, hadn’t moved. He may have stopped breathing for all that Merlin could tell. The fire brightened his cheeks, reflecting on his tense jaw as he stared at the flames.

“Get out.” Arthur said, still facing the hearth. The defeat in his voice sliced through Merlin’s fragile nerves.

He swallowed back a sob. “I can’t,” he rasped, the ache in his throat thickening his words, turning them bitter. “Guards.”

Arthur’s barked laughter rang out in the quiet room, painful and ugly. “Dear Lord, we’re _married_. We’re actually married.” He stood and rounded on Merlin whipcord fast and Merlin stumbled backwards at the fury in his eyes. “Anything else you’d like to share, _beloved_ , on our wedding night? Do you like to pluck the wings off flies? Trip small children and laugh when they stumble?”

Merlin stared at a deep nick on the table, remembering Arthur’s stupid habit of tapping the tip of his dagger while he and Merlin would sit and talk rainy afternoons away. “I have magic, Arthur.” He inhaled, his lungs expanding painfully against the pressure on his chest. “I was born this way. It doesn’t change who I am. I am not cruel or malicious.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed and his finger pointed accusingly an inch from Merlin’s nose. “Did you plan this? Is this your doing? Am I your key to Camelot?”

“How could you even--? What? No!” Merlin blinked back the tears brimming in his eyes and he swallowed hard, hating how easily his emotions rose to the surface while Arthur’s eyes showed nothing but anger. He hunched his shoulders, spent from the argument. His voice broke as he whispered, ”My magic is for you, Arthur. To serve you. I lay it at your feet.”

Arthur made no response, his face falling into the same exhaustion that Merlin felt. He sat and poured a goblet of watered-wine from the decanter on the table. Facing the hearth, he slumped low in his chair and drank.

Merlin let out a jagged breath and moved about the room, busying himself and not thinking about Arthur’s reaction and the fact that he was now bonded to a man who very likely hated him. Two packages were laid on a table beside the bed. The smaller one was a phial of oil from Gaius, the tiny note attached read: _for topical use only._ Merlin thought of his dream and blushed. He put it aside and added it to the list of things he was not thinking about. It had been a guilty fantasy last night, last month. Now it was a source of embarrassment, to desire someone who could never desire you.

The second package included bedclothes, a jacket and breeches, finer than any he’d ever owned. Apparently, neckerchiefs and rotten vegetable stained tunics were not fit for the prince’s _husband_. Merlin shot another look at Arthur. He was thinking, at least, brooding rather than throwing Merlin in the dungeons. A voice in his head suggested maybe he was _plotting_ the best way to throw Merlin in the dungeons and Merlin frowned. Would it have been easier if his secret had been spilled only a couple months after knowing Arthur, Merlin often wondered. Was it the magic or the sting of betrayal that weighed so heavily on Arthur?

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before today,” Merlin found himself saying, the words out of his mouth before the thought to speak them had formed. “For what it’s worth, I’ve tried to tell you so many times.”

Arthur cleared his throat then downed more wine. Long after Merlin had given up hope of a response, Arthur said, “Go to bed, Merlin. It’s been a long day.” The words were somewhere between a command and a suggestion and just enough like _Arthur_ that Merlin found hope there. He donned his new bedclothes and slipped into Arthur’s bed, hugging the edge and letting the softness of his pillow and the crackle of the fire lull him to sleep.

****

ooOOoo

The room was entirely black but for the glow of embers from the hearth when Merlin woke. His face was chilled, but the warmth of another body heated Merlin’s back. He peeked out of the corner of his eye to see Arthur lying on his side, raised on his elbow and staring back at him.

“In Ealdor, right?” Arthur asked. “You were trying to tell me then.”

Merlin blinked himself fully awake. Voice thick with sleep, he replied, “Yes.”

Arthur bowed his head and it fell to Merlin’s shoulder. “That was almost three years ago, Merlin.”

“I’m sorry.” Merlin shifted to look at Arthur properly. He smelled of wine but his eyes were clear and full of disappointment. Merlin’s mind blanked of any reasonable excuse that didn’t scream _I didn’t trust you_. “Things kept coming up.”

“You’re an idiot,” Arthur huffed, fond.

“Yes, I am.”

“And now you’re my idiot.” Arthur lifted his hand and stared at his ring.

“We’ll find a way out of this, Arthur.” Merlin found his breath short and the words hard to form with Arthur so close, closer than he’d ever truly been to Merlin. “It won’t be forever.” The words hung heavy in the air, wrong.

Arthur placed a hand on Merlin’s wrist and squeezed. “Go to sleep, Merlin.”

Which was easier said than done with Arthur’s strong hand holding him more like a lifeline than a manacle.

****

ooOOoo

When Merlin woke next, the curtains were drawn about the bed. Moonlight filtered though the wall of scarlet. Beside him, Arthur slept. He lay on his side, curled towards Merlin, hand half-hidden beneath Merlin’s pillow. The scar on his forearm from a tournament last winter shone silver-red in the strange light.

Merlin reached out and traced it with his finger. He remembered that day well: Arthur facing off against a man twice his size, the edge to his words the morning before as he pretended not to be nervous, the easy smile he’d given after, when Merlin had said he hadn’t doubted Arthur.

“You should never doubt me, Merlin,” Arthur had said, wrapping an arm around Merlin’s shoulder as they made their way back to the tent. “When have I ever given you reason to?”

It had been on his tongue later, after the feast, when Arthur was red-cheeked and quick with a joke. Merlin had almost told him then. But the words had caught in his throat and Arthur was maybe too drunk to hear them, so Merlin had let the moment pass. As he always did.

“Could you have healed it with magic?”

Merlin’s eyes snapped up to see Arthur watching him. His finger never stopped the journey up and down the scar as he thought. “I might have been able to. Never tried anything like that before.”

“Oh.” The skin beneath Merlin’s finger rose in gooseflesh, and Arthur said, “You – you maybe should. Try. It would be useful.”

Merlin processed the words, heart racing at the implication. “Yes, it would, wouldn’t it?” With a grin, he added, “You’re always getting sliced up for one reason or another.”

Arthur nudged Merlin’s shoulder. “And you could actually be useful for once.”

Merlin smiled, ducking his head. But then he grew serious. He would not let this moment pass. It was too precious and he’d had enough regrets to last a lifetime. He grabbed Arthur’s wrist and held it, mirroring Arthur’s action from hours before. “I could, you know. Be useful. If you will let me.” He tightened his grip and willed for Arthur to _understand_.

“Magic is still outlawed, Merlin. This doesn’t change that.”

“It changes everything. When you need me, I’ll be there beside you. When the time is right, you will bring peace to Albion with my help.” Merlin felt the words, the meaning of them, warm in his chest. He wasn’t simply quoting the dragon. He was stating Truth.

“You’re serious.”

“I am.”

Arthur stared for a long time then shook his head and with a wry grin whispered, “Goodnight, Merlin.”

Merlin watched Arthur drift off to sleep wondering what he might dream of.

****

ooOOoo

“Can’t I just go down to the kitchens?”

“No.”

“But I’m hungry!”

“You will wait until a servant brings us our breakfast, just like I used to wait for you to get your lazy arse out of bed.”

“You could have—“

“No. I could not have. It’s not done.”

“I’m hungry!”

“Suffer in silence. Someone will come soon.”

It took ten more minutes of bickering before the knock arrived.

“Enter,” they both said and Arthur cuffed Merlin on the back of the head.

The maid looked between them, startled and blushing. “Your Highness.” She curtsied to Arthur, then paused and stammered, “My Lord” with a curtsy to Merlin.

“Lord?” Merlin mouthed silently to Arthur, who shrugged.

Behind her a parade of maids entered. The first two set heaping platters before Arthur then Merlin. Others fussed about the room, picking up clutter and folding Merlin’s strewn wedding garments. One checked on the fire Merlin had prepared and added another log. A young maid entered laden with fresh sheets, her face matching the bed curtains. She headed for the bed when Arthur finally had enough. “That’ll be all.”

“Sire?” Her wide eyes looked from Arthur to the woman who had first greeted them.

“Just leave them. The bedding can be dealt with later. You’re dismissed.” Arthur looked around the room, ensuring it was understood he meant the entire army of girls who’d invaded his chambers.

“Thank you, Sire.” They each nodded in turn and raced from the room.

After the door swung shut behind the last of them, Merlin exhaled. “Are servants always so... invasive?”

“Eat,” Arthur said, forking a thick slice of ham. “Or I’ll have you take care of my chamber pot.”

Merlin snorted and tucked in. They ate in a companionable silence. When Merlin had had his fill, he pushed away his plate and his ring caught his eye. He’d noticed the engravings the day before but there’d been too many other things to distract him from looking closely. Now, a flood of adrenaline pumped through him. The markings were strange, foreign. He leapt up and grabbed a parchment and quill from Arthur’s dresser.

“What _are_ you doing, Merlin?”

Merlin didn’t bother to look up. He set the parchment down across from Arthur and stared at his ring. “My ring has writing on it. It may be part of the spell.” He began to copy the runes onto the page. “If I can translate this, I might be able to figure out how to break the enchantment on Uther.”

Arthur watched the paper fill with Merlin’s scratches. “And _you_ can translate these?”

“Well, I’ll need Gaius’s books. I don’t even know what language this is, yet. But it’s all we have right now.”

“That’s... that’s very clever, Merlin.” Arthur nodded, his lower lip protruding as it often did when he was suitably impressed. “My ring has engravings, too. You might as well check if they match.”

Merlin blinked. Arthur was helping – helping Merlin research something _magical_. It felt like a puzzle piece slotting into place and pleased laughter bubbled up in his chest. “Yes, of course.”

He stood and Arthur held out his left hand. Merlin could see the engravings, certainly the same type of writing as on his. He reached out to turn the ring to see more of it, but the moment his finger touched the gold, he felt a wave of heat, much like what he’d felt during the wedding. Only they weren’t in a crowded room standing before _Uther_ and all of the knights. They were alone. Arthur now knew his secret and there was an intimacy in the air that sent shivers down Merlin’s spine. It surged through his body, making his eyes fall shut and his knees weaken.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered, from so close his breath was warm on Merlin’s cheek. Merlin’s eyes opened to see Arthur looking back at him, face flushed and eyes half-lidded. His lips crashed to Merlin’s a heartbeat later, wet and open, demanding to be kissed back. Merlin fell into the moment, sucking Arthur’s bottom lip into his mouth and delighting in the moan he received from Arthur.

Awareness tugged at him, fighting its way through the fog. “It’s the ring,” Merlin whispered into Arthur’s mouth.

Arthur hummed in agreement, but added, “Bar the door.”

Merlin kissed him again, unable to stop himself. “Arthur, we shouldn’t. This isn’t us. It’s the spell.”

Arthur tore away, his expression shuttered, hurt, and he scrubbed at his face. With a curse he stormed to the window and cranked it open, letting the fresh autumn air cool the room.

Merlin collected himself, catching his breath and damning his own conscience for stopping them. “We need to see Gaius.”

****

ooOOoo

Half an hour later found them hunched together at Gaius’s worktable, Arthur flipping through a book of languages, comparing line by line the symbols with the parchment of Merlin’s scribbled markings. Beside him Merlin carefully read through each page in his book of spells.

“Would you stop playing with your ring?” Arthur snapped.

“Oh.” Merlin looked down at his hands, only then noticing he’d been twisting it. “Does it...?” he whispered with a blush and an ache of regret in his chest.

“No.” Arthur’s eyes narrowed then he shifted in his seat and Merlin felt a surge of lust that was too familiar to be blamed on magical rings. “You’re just annoying.”

Gaius walked by in time to give them both an amused smile, but thankfully said nothing.

The hours passed in silence. The sun hung low in the sky and across from Merlin, Arthur groaned and rubbed his eyes. Merlin waved a hand over the candles between them and they flickered to life. He looked up to find Arthur’s eyes, dark and intense, staring back.

“Sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Arthur shrugged, but his voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “I’ll just have to get use to that, I suppose.”

Merlin winced. “We’ll find something, Arthur. This whole thing is temporary.”

Arthur didn’t meet his eye. “That’s not what I meant.”

Merlin frowned, unsure what he was missing. He flipped a few more pages and there, scribbled in the corner of one incantation was the word _bonded_. His eyes skimmed the page, his heart in his throat. “Gaius! Come look at this.”

Both Gaius and Arthur crowded the book as Merlin explained, “This page describes a spell that requires a _Presider_ , who will be ‘blinded’ and ‘focused.’ The Presider will incant a spell over two outlets, to be given to bond the couple together and ensure a long fruitful marriage.”

“Outlets?” Arthur broke in.

“Oh, they could be anything, some type of artefact, jewellery.”

“Rings?” Merlin offered.

“Most certainly.” Gaius nodded. “I believe we have our spell.”

“How do we break it?”

“Hmm. That looks like it has roots in Etruria. Let me see the markings again.” Gaius pulled out the book of languages from Arthur’s place. And then another tome from the pile. “Yes. Here. It’s Etruscan. The inscription reads _two halves of the same whole_.”

Merlin hung his head and muttered, “Somewhere there’s a dragon laughing.”

“A dragon?”

“Um,” Merlin began, but Gaius was reading again.

“It seems there is a simple incantation which will dissolve the hold on the Presider.”

“Great!” Merlin clapped Gaius on the back.

Arthur asked, “And the spell on us?”

“On you?” Gaius frowned. “I don’t know what you mean, Sire.”

Arthur’s cheeks flushed. “The spell on us. To make us ... bonded.” He looked up at Merlin, clearly begging him to jump in.

“The rings. They’re enchanted, Gaius.”

“Hmm.” Gaius read through the spell again, shaking his head. “The rings are an outlet, Merlin. A talisman, if you will, to encourage intimacy. They do not, however, ‘enchant’ you or change you in any way. You are free to remove them once the bonding ceremony is complete.”

“Oh.” Merlin felt a wave of relief at the thought that his feelings in the last twenty-four hours has been his own, only amplified and brought to the surface through the enchanted rings. He and Arthur looked at each other a moment, Arthur holding his gaze with an intensity that spoke volumes. Neither reached to remove their rings.

Gaius broke the silence. “I suggest you discuss how you’d both like to proceed before we release Uther. At daybreak tomorrow, I think would be best. Now, we need time to prepare.”

****

ooOOoo

The sun had set before they finally made it out of Gaius’s rooms and back to Arthur’s. The minute they stepped inside, Arthur pinned Merlin to the closed door and rolled Merlin’s ring around his finger.

“Oh.” Merlin gasped as the slow burn of lust he’d been feeling that morning suddenly surged forward. Arthur captured his mouth in a kiss.

“Any more objections before we go any further, Merlin?”

Arthur slipped a leg between Merlin’s, and Merlin felt the firm muscle of Arthur’s thigh rub along his balls. This was them, he reminded himself. Merlin almost wanted to slip the ring off, just to prove it. But he _knew_. He knew he’d wanted this before, for years now, but it’d always been impossible – station and lies and a thousand other things standing between them – and Merlin had buried any such thoughts. He rocked his hips and felt all his arguments vanish with the burning need flaring inside of him.

“Bar the door, Merlin.” Arthur’s teeth grazed the stubble on Merlin’s chin and his eyes rolled back. “Or I will put you in the stocks for a week.”

“You wouldn’t.” Merlin rasped, but Arthur’s hand slipped under his tunic and scraped at his nipple. It really seemed like barring the door was the best idea Arthur had ever had. So Merlin did.

They got halfway to the bed, tugging at each other’s clothes before they had to stop for breath and to pull their tunics over their heads. Merlin closed his teeth around Arthur’s nipple because it was too pert and too perfect and a love bite would go nicely right _there_. Arthur squirmed beneath him, clutching his hair and yes, barring the door had been the right choice. Especially when Arthur’s hand slipped into Merlin’s breeches and grabbed hold of one arse cheek and pulled him close so that their groins crashed together.

It was brilliant. And imperative that they be naked and somehow manage the five paces to the bed. They made it with only a few stumbles.

And somehow, possibly by Merlin’s magic, Arthur’s breeches were around his ankles. It was only right that Merlin’s followed. They kicked off the rest of their clothes and fell into bed, Arthur pinning Merlin, wrists above his head and kissing him soundly.

“This could still be the rings,” Merlin managed to say, one last attempt to ease his conscience. “Making it so intense.”

“I don’t care.” Arthur licked right below Merlin’s ear and yes, Merlin didn’t care much either.

“There’s a phial of oil.” Merlin writhed against Arthur, trying to both escape and thrust upward, but achieving neither. “Arthur, let me go.”

Arthur huffed but released him. He rolled over and panted while Merlin crawled to his bedside table. He felt a shot of nerves as his fingers closed around the phial – he’d never done this, but country boys talked enough that he knew the basics. He didn’t dare ask Arthur if he knew from experience.

Arthur’s hand closed around Merlin’s ankle and pulled. Merlin laughed and clawed at the sheets as he was dragged across the bed and sat upon, face down on the bed.

“I believe this is for me.” Arthur plucked the phial from Merlin’s hands.

“Damn.” Arthur cursed and Merlin felt a splash of oil hit his backside. He turned to watch it drip onto the sheet. “Slippery,” Arthur added, running his fingers along Merlin’s arse until both Merlin and his fingers were coated.

Merlin’s sarcastic remark evaporated on his tongue as he felt an oiled finger at his entrance. His half-hard cock stiffened against the sheets. Arthur pushed in and Merlin clenched around the finger. It was not comfortable. It felt strange and invasive but the ragged sound of Arthur’s breath and the bruising grip on Merlin’s hip more than made up for it.

“Trust me,” Arthur breathed, slowly twisted his finger around.

Merlin focused on deep inhales and exhales. “Okay.”

Arthur moved his finger again, pulling out and edging back in. Slowly, it became less strange and more welcome. At Arthur’s urging, Merlin rose to his hands and knees and yes, it was infinitely more comfortable and Arthur reached a little deeper and _oh._

“That’s... yes.” Merlin gasped, eyes squeezing shut.

“Yeah?” Arthur whispered, half-cocky, half-breathless. Merlin refused to think about who might have taught Arthur what felt good.

His finger pushed in again and again, more often than not hitting that spot that felt brilliant. Then suddenly the stretch was more, and through the burn, even more brilliant.

“Merlin, I need—“

“Yes.” Merlin hadn’t the breath for anything else. All his concentration was focused solely on not coming and not lighting the curtains on fire with a spontaneous burst of magic.

The feel of Arthur’s cock at his entrance brought him back to the here and now. It was bigger – far bigger – than the two or three fingers that Arthur had managed. With a grunt, Arthur pushed in, just the tip stretching him wide, ripping him open. He cried out, tears welling in his eyes.

“Shh.” Arthur didn’t push further. He rubbed slow gentle circles into Merlin’s lower back. “It gets better, just try to relax.”

It took a moment, but Merlin nodded. He fell to his elbows and let his head drop to the sheets. It was easier with the new angle, and as soon as he relaxed a fraction, Arthur gave a shallow thrust. “Oh, God. Arthur.” It was incredible. And it was Arthur. Merlin could feel him not just inside but the heat of his thighs against Merlin’s, the nails curling possessively at his hips. The soft grunts of exertion Merlin knew so well from watching years of him practise his sword work. Merlin widened the spread of his legs and pushed back, delighted when that sound came again.

“You’ll be the death of me.” Arthur hissed and snapped his hips forward. Merlin cried out again, filled, split open further than he’d ever imagined. The room began to fill with light, streams of shimmering gold danced through the air.

“ _Merlin_.”

Arthur began to pump in earnest, long drags out and thrusts back in, brutal and focused and so very much _Arthur_. Merlin gasped and swore and held nothing back, urging him faster, harder and _please, Arthur, more_. Around them, the lights swirled and darted about the room.

Arthur’s slick hand wrapped around Merlin’s cock and began to pump at the same furious pace. Too fast, too hard, too perfect to last long. With a strangled cry Merlin came, coating Arthur’s fingers and messing the sheets.

Merlin focused on holding himself up long enough for Arthur to get another half dozen strokes in. The lights circled them at a dizzying speed. Then Arthur shuddered, pressing himself deep and sealing himself to Merlin as if he’d never let go.

The room faded into darkness as they collapsed onto the bed.

“That was...” Arthur closed his eyes and a slow grin crept across his face.

“Yes, it was.” Merlin chuckled, shifting a little, testing for aches and finding only a pleasant soreness and the buzz of orgasm-induced fatigue.

“Do you always get—?“ Arthur waved his hands about which Merlin translated to ‘magical sex light show’.

“No.” Merlin blushed. “First time for that.”

“Good.” Arthur shot him a smug smirk and Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Let me see your ring.”

“Really, already?” Arthur looked down at his limp cock.

“That’s not code for anything. I just want to check something.” Merlin reached for Arthur’s hand and tentatively touched the ring. Arthur hummed in pleasure. Merlin slipped the ring off and waited.

“What?” Arthur looked at him, confused.

Merlin leaned over and brushed Arthur’s cheeks with his lips, but Arthur was having none of that. He clutched at Merlin’s hair and angled him into an open-mouthed kiss. When they pulled apart, Merlin laughed and slipped the ring back onto Arthur’s finger. “Just checking.”

Arthur lay back, arm across his eyes and voice serious. “Merlin, I want this.”

“Me, too.” Merlin sighed, watching the steady rise and fall of Arthur’s bare chest. There was no was way he could give this up now.

“What are we going to tell my Father?”

“I have an idea.” Merlin smirked.

“Good, tell me about it over dinner. I’m starving.” Arthur stood to get into his breeches and smacked Merlin’s bare arse cheek. “And be sure to change those sheets before tonight. They’re disgusting.”

“Prat.” Merlin chuckled and whipped a pillow at him.

****

ooOOoo

Merlin sat at the back of the room on a chair by the door and wished he could inch it closer to freedom without the rough scrape of wood on stone.

“And I declared to all of Camelot what exactly?” Uther lay in bed, a cloth upon his forehead.

“That I was to marry immediately.” Arthur paced back and forth at the foot of the bed as he spoke.

“I believe it was brought on by a fever, Sire.” Gaius interjected while grabbing Uther’s wrist to check his pulse.

“That is ludicrous. I remember none of this.”

“It was a terrible fever, Sire. I’ve never seen its like.”

Uther sent Gaius a withering look, and Gaius smartly stepped back. “And who were you purposed to marry?”

“You declared, before the court, that I was to marry Merlin.”

“What? Your _manservant_?”

“At noon two days past.”

“What?”

“And you would not be dissuaded.”

“Fevers have been known to make men delusional.”

“That’s enough, Gaius,” Uther snapped and turned his attention to Arthur. “And how did you manage to get out of it?”

Arthur stopped and wrapped a hand about Uther’s bed post. After a deep breath, he said simply, “We didn’t.” He held up his hand to show the ring.

“Dear God!” Uther’s eyes snapped to Merlin who gave a tight-lipped smile and waved his left hand.

“We had no choice.”

“Arthur, I am sorry. Truly. I – I have no explanation for my actions.” He frowned as though trying to put together a puzzle and finding no pieces fitting. “We shall dissolve the marriage immediately, of course.”

Arthur shot a look back at Merlin, who nodded his support. “Father, I have thought through the options and what is best for Camelot and your image as king.” Merlin’s heart pounded as Arthur spoke. They’d agreed to this, talking through the details until the moon rose and the wine jug emptied. Still, Merlin could scarcely believe the words.

“What are you saying, Arthur?”

“It was a public event. Word has likely already spread to other kingdoms, to rescind the marriage now, as if it had been an error in judgement on your part, or on mine...”

“Yes.” Uther nodded. He thought for a moment and then continued. “Yes. Arthur your insight is admirable. We would lose face, certainly. Something we can hardly afford.”

“Exactly my thoughts, Father.” Arthur’s voice was steady, chin raised. “I’m willing to continue this farce. For the sake of Camelot.”

“Your sacrifice is duly noted, Arthur. Camelot will be proud to one day see you be her king.” Uther’s eyes shone with pride as he looked at his son. “And you, Merlin. Do you accept this arrangement?”

“Yes, Sire. I understand the importance of the kingdom respecting its king.”

“Well said.” Uther smiled, a pleased grin that looked nothing like those of the days previous. Merlin moved to stand next to Arthur and let their shoulders brush.

“I believe Uther should get some rest now.” Gaius fussed with the pillows at the king’s back. Uther looked suitably annoyed. “And you two should begin to show the castle that the prince has, indeed, made an excellent match. They should be proud to call you their own.”

“Indeed.” Uther nodded, looking between the two. “Indeed.”

Behind their backs, Arthur’s fingers found Merlin’s and they entwined together, their rings emanating a soft warmth, full of hope and destiny.

****

~fin~

  


**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] With This Ring](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1001709) by [handsomeviolets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/handsomeviolets/pseuds/handsomeviolets)




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